"Last night I remembered something:

It was dark and we lay on the couch together watching TV. There wasn't much on so I think I spent more time facing him than the flickering box in the corner. It was summer time and the fire was on, but I still had shivers. I remember writing about how I'd counted his heartbeat to the 24th beat and then stopped. I don't remember how we both managed to fit on the couch, it wasn't very big. Pretty sure I was hanging off it a couple of times but we held each other to avoid a fall.
As close as we were, and as much as I thought about it, and I imagine he did to, we never kissed then. I don't remember us kissing at all on the first night. I remember kissing on the second night which I really wish hadn't happened in the drunk sick way it did. Regardless though, we had fun and it's a night worth remembering.
But the first was probably more memorable: Playing instruments, cuddling on the couch, and standing in the spare room holding each other before sleeping in separate bedrooms. My heart was racing and I was still shivering, this time probably because I had taken my shirt off, but moreso from excited nerves. I honestly don't remember us kissing at all. I think we were just too nervous to trust that we were reading each other correctly, as usual, I assume we both knew that we wanted it but also didn't..."